


Dude, really?

by Classic Rock Chick (thewrittenfae)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bickering, Gen, Genderbent Dean, siblings being siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewrittenfae/pseuds/Classic%20Rock%20Chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam brings home dinner. And forgot the pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dude, really?

Deanna's eyes narrowed and she threw the pillow at Sam. “I can't believe you.” Her words were huffed as she slipped to her feet and her hands settled on her hips. 

“It's not exactly my fault, De! Geez.” His hand reached out, slapping the pillow towards the beds before it hit him. The poor thing only made it halfway there before it sank to the ground between them. 

Shaking her head, she turned and walked to the mini fridge. Leaning, she's careful of the arm in a cast as she pulled a beer out before the door is hip checked closed. “Ya could have tried harder, Sam! You stick me in this stupid room all fuckin' day, and then you don't even bring me back pie!” 

The food is set down, a tick in Sam's jaw clear from across the room as he gave a frustrated sigh. “They were out. And the last time I tried something else, you bitched.” He pointed a finger at her, “And you can't hunt with a broken arm, De.” 

She shifts past him to the table where he's set the food down. Any other day, she'd probably have eaten while curled up on her bed, but she needed the extra help with her arm as it was. The beer is set down next to her take out container. “That's because you brought me cake. Cake is not pie.” Folding herself into her chair, she glared at her brother. “And I can too.” 

“You can't shoot a gun or hold a knife. You're better staying here and helping out with the research. And bitching about it won't change anything.” Sam moved to grab his own beer, twisting the cap into the garbage before he settled at the table across from her. “And they're similar.” 

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her knife out and carefully popped the cap off her beer instead of asking for help; even if it took her a couple tries. “I hate being on this side of the damn hunts. I'm better in the field.” Once open, she took a swig of beer before the container is opened. She's grateful, at least, for the burger that's sitting among some crinkled cut fries. “No. They aren't in the slightest.” 

Sam leaned back, opening his salad as he glared over at Deanna. “I don't care if you hate being on that side of the hunt. Until you can shoot, you'll be stuck there if I have to hand cuff you to the god damn bed myself.” He didn't really pause before he dipped and started to eat, watching her as he did. “Both dessert. Both sweet.” 

“I'd be able to pick it,” she huffed as she carefully picked up her burger with her left hand. Everything was still so damn clumsy with it, and she hated it. “And no. You can't just say they're both sweet. There's a difference. Pie has a nice, flaky crust with warm apple or pecans in it. Totally different from dense bread with too sweet icing.” 

Sighing, he flicked a piece of lettuce at her. “Shut up and eat your burger. If you're nice, I'll hit the diner and bring you back a piece for breakfast.” There was a pause as he ate another bite. “And no, you wouldn't be able to. Not without your kit, which is in your bag because you aren't in the field right now.”

Deanna's nose wrinkled and she inched the lettuce away from her fries with her broken hand. “With ice cream?” She ate a couple bites, not bothering to counter the part about picking. She was getting tired of the bickering. 

“We'll see,” Sam answered before he fell silent in order to better enjoy his dinner.


End file.
